


Meanwhile, In Attempt #218

by iamtheenemy (Steph)



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/pseuds/iamtheenemy
Summary: Eleanor Shellstrop wakes up in the Good Place and meets her soulmate.





	Meanwhile, In Attempt #218

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corialis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corialis/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, corialis! I was so excited to get the chance to write this story for you! We have the same opinions on the characters and the show in general, which made writing this a lot easier. I hope that you enjoy it!

When Eleanor Shellstrop opened up her eyes, she was in heaven. Or the Good Place, as Michael, the friendly, white haired guy who greeted her called it. It took her about 45 minutes to realize that there had been a huge mistake.

Honestly, it shouldn’t have even taken that long. Eleanor never thought about the afterlife when she was alive, but if she had, she would have guessed that there was a one way ticket south with her name on it.

And now she stood watching, with a knot of dread in her stomach, as a magical projection screen played back an altruistic life that wasn’t hers on the wall of Michael’s office.

“And here!” Michael was saying, oblivious to her distress. “This is when you gave that homeless Ukrainian boy your last two hundred _hryvnia_ so that he could buy food for his family, and he presented you with that single white flower as a thank you.”

“Oh yeah, I remember him,” Eleanor said, staring as, on the screen, a hand that definitely wasn’t hers reached out and took the flower offered by the boy. “Little...Steve.”

“Isn’t that beautiful, Janet?” Michael asked the weird robot lady or whatever that followed him around.

“I am unable to feel emotion or understand the concept of beauty,” she answered cheerfully.

Michael ignored that and continued. “You earned 100,000 points that day alone, Eleanor. You’ve lead a truly extraordinary life. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Go for it,” Eleanor said, nauseous.

“This is my very first time working as an Architect on a neighborhood in the Good Place. I’ve just finished with the standard six million year training period, you see. So this is a huge opportunity for me -- and to get _Eleanor Shellstrop_ on my first go? _Hot dog!_ What an honor! You’re like the Beyoncé...of _kindness_.”

“Well.” She awkwardly slugged him on the shoulder. “Right back atcha, bud.”

“Alright, I guess we don’t have to keep showing you replays of every moment of your life. You were there, after all,” Michael said.

“Sure was!” she chirped, feeling like she wanted to die -- again.

With a wave of his hand, Michael turned off the projector and turned on the lights. “Time for the fun stuff! Let’s go meet your soulmate!”

Eleanor blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Here in the Good Place, everyone is matched up with the one other person in existence who perfectly completes them in every way. The other half of their very soul. Soulmate.”

“Uhh...wow,” Eleanor said. She was excited for a moment before remembering that this wouldn’t be _her_ soulmate, but whatever granola-eating do-gooder she’d been confused with. What kind of loser soulmate would that chick have?

 

* * *

 

“Eleanor Shellstrop, meet your soulmate, Tahani Al-Jamil.”

Eleanor stared across and up, up, up at the stone cold, five-alarm hottie looking back at her.

“Whoa…” she said, dumbstruck.

Maybe her Pollyanna doppelganger wasn’t so boring after all, if she got to hit _that_ for all eternity. Tahani Al-Jamil was like a sexy willow tree, towering over Eleanor in fashionable heels and a light blue sundress, her perfect hair spilling over her shoulders.

“I have to admit,” Tahani began in a hoity-toity English accent that somehow made her even _hotter_ , “this comes as a bit of a surprise.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her hair, took a deep breath, and continued, “But who am I to question your wisdom, Michael? Eleanor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Whoa, you say my name like Mary Poppins,” Eleanor breathed.

“Is...that a compliment?” Tahani asked uncertainly.

Spoken like someone who _hadn’t_ experienced a very confusing sexual awakening thanks to Julie Andrews, Dick van Dyke, and some animated penguins.

“ _Yeah_ it is,” she answered, and then opened her arms, gesturing invitingly. “Bring it in, soulmate. And bring it down. You are _so_ tall.”

 

* * *

 

“And this is where you two will be living.”

“Come to Mommy,” Eleanor said, taking in the towering mansion in front of her with its lush gardens and bubbling fountains.

“Tahani, probably the hardest part about this neighborhood was making this house meet your exacting standards,” Michael said. "I'm still not

Eleanor turned from where she was still gaping at the palace in front of her to look at them incredulously. “What are you, forking royalty?” she asked Tahani.

Tahani laughed, a sound that tinkled gently like wind chimes. “No, no, as much as Her Majesty tried. Harry is simply _not_ my type. I’d never be able to wear orange again.”

 

* * *

 

As they made their way through the sprawling, luxurious mansion, Eleanor thought it might just be easier to keep her mouth shut about the whole, little identity mix-up thing. Who could it hurt? If she stayed under the radar, she could probably just slide by unnoticed for eternity.

Michael led them up a winding staircase, explaining, “This is where your rooms are. Tahani, yours is the first one.”

Tahani eagerly opened up the door, and they all peered into the opulent room. It had plush beige carpeting and framed art hung tastefully on the walls. The centerpiece of the room was a four-poster bed covered in pillows and thick, lush blankets.

“Oh, Michael, I simply…” Tahani began and then stopped, her smile slipping off of her face. “Are these...all my sister’s paintings?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch, to make you feel more at home,” he answered. “And look, as a bonus…” He snapped his fingers and they were all given spotlights. “Now you’ll always have her with you.”

Eleanor squinted at the paintings. “Wait, is your sister Kamilah? _The_ Kamilah? Holy shirtballs.” The closest thing Eleanor had to a famous family member was an uncle who got arrested on an episode of COPS. Twice.

“Yes, we’re very proud,” Tahani said and made a face like she was chewing glass. “Michael, you’ll excuse me, I don’t know what to say in the face of this incredible gesture.”

Michael put a companionable hand on her shoulder. “You can take all the time you need. In fact, you can take forever, since that’s how long you’ll have to look at them.”

“That is so...wonderful,” Tahani said. “On an unrelated note, if one did want to change some tiny, insignificant things about the decor, how would one go about that?”

Michael looked alarmed. “Everything should be perfect down to the smallest detail! What did I mess up? Was it the sheets? I knew I should have picked the red! Oh man, this is already going wrong -- “

“No, Michael, Michael!” Tahani put her hands on his arms and squeezed. “Everything is lovely, honestly. It was idle curiosity apropos of nothing that made me ask. Shall we go to Eleanor’s room next?”

“Yes!” Eleanor said, rubbing her hands together. “Which one is mine?”

“Down the hall. The last one on the left,” Michael answered, and Eleanor took off ahead of them and threw open the door.

She stared into an empty, gray room that didn’t even look big enough to fit a bed -- which made sense, since there wasn’t one. It was basically a closet without the charm. She’d stayed overnight in nicer drunk tanks.

“What am I, Harry Potter?” she muttered to herself as she stared at all the nothing.

“Do you like it?” Michael asked when he caught up.

Behind her, Eleanor could hear Tahani make an aborted sound of distress when she peered in.

Unable to say anything she wanted to out of fear of giving herself up, Eleanor just dimly asked, “Where’s the bed?”

“That’s the best part! I know that your time working in impoverished countries made you uncomfortable sleeping on soft surfaces. Of course you’ll never get cold — I mean, we’re in the Good Place, after all — so there’s no need to bother with blankets.” He pointed across the room. “And for your head.”

Eleanor’s eyes followed where his finger pointed.

“A rock,” she said. Her eyes missed it on her first pass through of the room because the giant rock was the same color gray as the floor. “Oh good. I was just thinking that the concrete was too inviting.”

With a bing, Janet popped up right beside her, causing her to lurch backward in fright. “Fun fact,” Janet began, “this rock is made out of the hardest, strongest elements in existence. The top of it is even sprayed with the same substance that Donald Trump uses in his hair on windy days.”

“I have one last thing, Eleanor,” Michael said as Janet binged back out of existence. “You’ll have to excuse my vanity, but I wanted to wait so that I could see the expression on your face when I showed you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, just ran to the back of the room, which was about six feet away from the front of the room, and grabbed the edge of a black curtain hanging on the wall.

“Ta-da!” he cried and yanked the curtain away to reveal a giant, floor to ceiling mural of the most terrifying clown she has ever seen.

“Oh my god!” she shrieked and slammed her shoulder in the doorway in an attempt to get away. “It’s… _amazing_ ,” she choked as she tried to avoid looking at the thing right in the eyes.

“That’s quite the compliment coming from the owner of Earth’s largest clown collection,” Michael said.

“Good lord,” Tahani said.

Sleeping on rocks? The world’s largest clown collection? How the fork did this other chick get into the Good Place when she was clearly a serial killer?

 

* * *

 

“Well, Michael, it’s official: your first attempt at creating this neighborhood has so far been a rousing success,” Tahani said. “Every single bit of this house is absolutely, exquisitely perfect. I simply cannot wait to host my first party here.” She turned to Eleanor. “In my life — well, my former life, I suppose — I flatter myself to say I possessed a bit of a knack for putting together a soirée.”

“Flatter yourself? My dear, you don’t give yourself enough credit!” Michael exclaimed. “In fact, I’m glad you brought that up, because I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind organizing a party for the rest of the neighborhood as a way to get to know each other.”

Tahani’s face lit up in glee. No one seemed to care about Eleanor’s opinion, which was that she wanted to ride out this whole accidental life swap as quietly as she could. That might be a problem with Socialite Barbie inviting the whole neighborhood into their house.

Tahani clutched a hand to her chest and said, “Michael, I’m so honored that you would trust me with this responsibility.”

“There’s no one better equipped than you,” Michael said. “Anyway, it’s perfect because the party will also be a celebration of something truly special, a real milestone for the Good Place. We have in this very neighborhood the person who has received the highest points total _ever_ in the history of, well, history.”

 _Please don’t say me,_ Eleanor thought.

“A person whose life and accomplishments have truly redefined what it means to be good.”

_Please don’t say me._

“And it’s only fitting that we have it here with you, Tahani, since the Best Person is none of other than… our Eleanor,” Michael finished as Eleanor tried to hide her cringe.

“Oh. Oh, wow,” Tahani said. “That is just delightful. How fun!”

“Imagine being the sister of Kamilah and the soulmate of Eleanor Shellstrop! How does one person get so lucky?” Michael asked.

“I’ve lived a charmed life. And now a charmed death, it seems. I just never stop being lucky!” Tahani answered with a wide, manic grin and then took a deep breath and grabbed Eleanor by the shoulders. “I shall make it my mission to put together the best party the Good Place has ever seen in your honor, Eleanor.”

“You really don’t have to,” Eleanor said desperately. “I don’t need anything. You could just get me one of those fancy commemorative plates like they sell on QVC.”

“Nonsense! This is no place for false modesty!” Michael declared.

“So it’s settled then! A party!” Tahani clapped her hands.

“Yayyy,” Eleanor said.

 

* * *

 

Eleanor stared at the destruction around her as the last party guests filtered out of the house. Bambadjan didn’t even bother using the door. He just climbed out of the gaping hole made by the broken floor-to-ceiling windows in the ballroom.

Eleanor combed escargot out of her hair and went into the study where Tahani was lying on the couch, her stylish wedge heels kicked off and an arm flung across her eyes.

“That went well,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, do shut up,” Tahani said. “I have never been more humiliated in my entire life.”

There was an abandoned plate left on one of the sitting tables. Eleanor yanked the shrimp off of it.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she began, “by the time you went really, you know, _insane_ it was late enough that most people were probably pretty drunk.”

“That is in no way helpful. I set a tablecloth on fire and told Kevin to _butter off_ ,” Tahani said, leaving out the part where she also flung a bottle of champagne through a picture window and tried to use a dinner tray to smash their speakers when one of Kamilah’s songs started playing. There are clearly some _issues_ involving Tahani and her famous sister. Eleanor magnanimously didn’t mention any of that.

“Can you please just leave me on my own to rot in shame?” Tahani cried.

Eleanor finished chewing her lukewarm shrimp and shrugged as she tossed the tail on the carpet. Not like it could make the mess any worse. “Cool,” she answered, walking away.

She was halfway out the door when Tahani said behind her, “How is it possible that _you_ are the single best person in existence?”

Eleanor turned back around. “Excuse me?”

Tahani gestured at her. “I mean, look at you.”

Eleanor straightened and tried to ignore the pang of hurt that comment caused her when it hit a little too close to home.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively.

Tahani sat up on the couch. “Earlier today I saw you shove a handful of shrimp down your shirt.”

Oh yeah. Eleanor reached in and dug out an errant one from her bra.

“When Vicky asked you what it was like to help Syrian refugees, you described it as -- I’m quoting: ‘A real bummer.’ And _how on Earth are you eating that?_ ”

“What?” Eleanor slurred through a mouthful of shrimp. “It’s still good.”

“This is exactly what I mean. It is utterly inconceivable that you earned more points than me. When I was alive, I singlehandedly raised over sixty billion dollars for charity. That’s _billion_ ,” Tahani emphasized, over-enunciating with her stupid, sexy Julie Andrews voice, “with a ‘b’.”

Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest and glared, letting the familiar rise of self-righteous anger drown out the hurt feelings that she totally didn’t have anyway. She knew she was an Arizona dirtbag who fleeced old people out of their savings and ate bra-shrimp. It shouldn’t upset her that this person who she’d only known for a week could see it too.

“Well excuse me, but some of us didn't come out of the womb with a giant, silver spoon crammed up our butts!” she said. “Just because you were born rich and fancy and lived in a mansion or whatever, and just because you have legs twice the length of my whole body, doesn’t make you better than me. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can act like a total _bench_.”

Tahani gasped, and Eleanor sneered, “Yeah, I said it. Bench -- _with a b_.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Eleanor’s arms still folded protectively in front of her chest, until Tahani cracked first, dropping her head into her hands and sighing.

“I am,” she admitted. “I’m acting like a...what you said.”

“A bench,” Eleanor repeated. “A total, raging bench.”

“Yes, that. Ah!” She fell back onto the couch. “It’s not your fault. You’ve done _nothing_ wrong, Eleanor. And you’re my _soulmate_ , aside from everything else. I should be able to get past these hang ups I have in order to celebrate your incredible life, and instead I just…” She waved a hand around the wreckage of the room to demonstrate.

“Set the house on fire?” Eleanor suggested.

“Set the bloody house on fire,” Tahani agreed.

Eleanor debated whether to say anything but then a niggling of guilt got the better of her and she said, begrudgingly, “Look, I can tell that any time someone mentions your sister it drives you nuts.”

Tahani didn't bother to deny it. “Three separate people came up and asked me if I could get them her autograph today. We are _dead_ , Eleanor,” she said.

Eleanor grimaced. “Yikes.”

“She's awful and pretentious and the worst sister one could ever fear having. And my parents always loved her more than me,” Tahani said. She pushed herself off the couch and began to pace, obviously warming to the subject. “And I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me I’m wrong and that…”

“I believe you,” Eleanor interrupted.

“You do?” Tahani asked, pausing halfway to the baby grand piano at the end of the sitting room and looking torn between being pleased and offended.

“I never had any siblings, but I know all about terrible parents,” Eleanor explained. “When I was 10-years-old I spent a day running a lemonade stand so that I could make enough money to buy a new bicycle. After I went to sleep, my mom took all of it and got herself tickets to a Billy Ray Cyrus concert. If someone tells me their parents are jerks, I’ll believe them.”

“My good friend Miley would be horrified if she heard that story,” Tahani said absently. She ducked her head, and when she looked up again, Eleanor was horrified to see that there were tears in her eyes. “I’m just...I’m in heaven. How can this still be happening to me here? How can I be this unhappy?”

Eleanor winced, knowing that at least some of the blame for Tahani’s misery was on her. With a sigh, she lead Tahani back to the couch and sat down beside her.

“So here’s what I think,” she began. “Michael said that this was his first attempt at building a neighborhood, right? I think he just...made some mistakes.”

But still, that thought niggled at Eleanor. Maybe Tahani wasn't supposed to be there either? Maybe that's why she and Eleanor were paired together, despite having almost nothing else in common? Eleanor tucked that in the back of her mind to think about later.

“What about you?” Tahani asked. “Did he get anything wrong about you?”

Eleanor glanced at her hands and said, “Clowns. I forking hate clowns.”

“Oh, thank god,” Tahani said and gave a watery laugh. “That mural in your bedroom is an abomination.”

“I think it comes to life at night,” Eleanor admitted.

She shifted closer to Tahani. Tahani responded until then they were so close that their knees touched.

“You know, I never really liked Kamilah anyway,” Eleanor said.

Tahani rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that,” she said.

Eleanor paused. “Yeah,” she finally admitted sheepishly. “But I like you better.”

“Oh.” Tahani looked pleased as she tucked a perfect strand of hair behind her ears. “I suppose that since we’re soulmates, that’s to be expected.”

Don’t ever let it be said that Eleanor Shellstrop didn’t shoot her shot. Putting a hand on Tahani’s knee, she asked, “Since we _are_ soulmates, would you maybe want to...?” She wagged her eyebrows significantly.

Tahani touched Eleanor's waist, rubbing the soft, purple fabric of Eleanor's dress between her fingers and giving her the shivers. “Are you propositioning me? Ineptly?"

Eleanor swallowed and tightened her hand on Tahani's knee. "I don't know. Is it working?"

"I have no idea how, but yes, I believe it is," Tahani admitted.

They met in the middle of the scant space separating them, their lips coming together in a sweet, tentative kiss that only lasted a moment before Eleanor pulled away to look at Tahani questioningly. She wasn't exactly used to sweet or tentative. Her typical encounters would be halfway over by now.

Tahani ran her thumb over Eleanor’s bottom lip and said, a smile in her voice, “You taste like shrimp.”

Eleanor snorted. “Get used to it, baby.” She surged up on her knees and kissed Tahani more firmly, letting herself really enjoy it. When they separated again, she’d made her decision.

“Tahani, I have something else to tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kimmi for all the encouragement!


End file.
